Knights of the Old Republic: Roots
by l0ngshotOR
Summary: Events before, during and possibly after Revan's Fall. Male Revan Bastila. Up next, what Bastila has been doing all this time. R&R. Thanks.
1. Chapter 1

KotOR Roots

"Give it back!" the female voice pleaded with her tormentors.

"Hah, pass it here!" The bracelet flew through the air as the girl jumped trying to catch it. She just missed and fell into the noir soil.

"Heh, look at her, some Jedi!" one of the boys yelled to his accomplice tauntingly. He was silhouetted by the dim form of the Enclave. The young man took a good look at the bracelet, it was silver, Alderanian silver to be exact, and had the letters _B.S. _engraved on the inside. _Should pick up some nice credits at a junk dealer,_ he thought to himself. The padawan picked herself off the ground, frustrated, and ran at the boy, landing a solid blow onto the side of his ribs. The amulet dropped to the ground and snapped in half, as the male's knee plowed into it. One half landed onto the fingertips of her right hand. A wave of sadness engulfed the Jedi apprentice as she felt tears swell up in her hazel eyes. _Mom…_ She didn't have any time to grieve though, because a fist connected with the side of her head as she fell back into the earth.

She tried to roll to her right, but the weight of the young man, four years her senior, crushed her into the ground, forcing the air out of her lungs. She struggled and fought to work the man off of her, but couldn't. He looked her in the eyes and sneered. He and his buddy were both seventeen and farmer's sons. Because of this they were strong, tough, and poor. That is probably why they had attacked her. She couldn't lose the bracelet, the last piece of family she had left.

The wind suddenly blew from behind her as the weight was suddenly lifted off of her chest.

The girl lay back and gasped desperately for air, as the much larger boy flew through the air, connecting finally with one of Dantooine's many cliff faces. The other kid ran at the Jedi youth who had so rudely interrupted their game.

"Stop," a severe voice commanded; even though it had come from her rescuer, the voice seemed deeper than its years. Even though she had heard it few times she knew immediately who it was. It was him. The aggressor threw a haymaker coming down for the savior's head, but he ducked and countered expertly, without emotion, leaving the assailant to fall to the floor trying to recover. Bastila struggled to her feet, but felt an arm wrap around her neck.

"You think that your force tricks work on me, nerf-herder?" He pulled tightly on her neck, cutting off the air. Bastila went to work immediately trying to pry the vice grip off and run, but her will and force powers were already exhausted from a full day of training with the harshest here, Vrook. She looked into her heroes eyes, pleadingly.

Streaks of anger ran over him, his eyes bore straight into the bully's eyes. _Nothing will hurt her!_ Suddenly, in a rustle of robes he left the ground, his foot coming down onto the startled enemy's collar bone, shattering it. Bastila fell to the ground, but an arm stopped her and pulled her up.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Air, air, AIR! _She breathed it in, savoring and then breathing out. A dull numbness went through as the force coursed through her veins. She sat up and looked around.

"Whoa now, sit back down." The Tw'ilek nurse rushed over. "Sit back down now, you need some time to recover. You're lucky he found you when he did."

"Who?" As the words left her lips, she remembered. Warmth spread through her soul as she thought about him. She leaned back driving her head into the pillow.

Her savior,

With that she leapt up and dashed out the door.

_He's back, finally, Revan is back._

----------------------------------

Wow, pretty dramatic! This is my first original fanfic, so please Read and Review! If only for this one! I just need to know if anyone would be interested in reading what happened during Revan's fall; through my thoughts obviously. If you want me to write anymore, just post a quick review please!

Any character ideas, plot suggestions/ corrections please be emailed to my email: liquid. you to Amber Penglass, Silversentinal21 and HeavenClaw for the great support. I'm trying!


	2. Love's Beginning

KotOR Roots

Chapter 2

_"Master Vrook, I've been doing my Katas for four hours now, why can't I leave?"_

_"Patience, Padawan, you need to master this style if you are ever going to be a Knight."_

_"Come on Vrook, let her go." A shadowed figure strolled down the slope into the training dojo. Though the face was hidden beneath a hood, attached to a cloak, it was clear she was a woman._

_"Master Kreia, welcome, and thank you for joining us; how long ago did you happen to land?"_

_"I have my own matters to attend to, Vrook." The man cringed; an unknown emotion was waving off of her. Anger, no. Jealousy no, her student was special too, and very much so, a prodigal knight. "About an hour ago, my pupil and Master Vandar are still conversing. Sparring seems to be the topic of choice. As you know, the Couracant Council is coming, taking Padawans with them. Revan has decided to apply. I, however, have decided to come visit the one with the gift."_

_She walked towards the girl. She was only of ten years, and yet her aura astounded her. Also, she was not masking it, making her a target in combat. Vrook was slacking._

_"And you, young one, what is your name?" Kreia already knew her name, but by analyzing answers, she could piece together a profile. The girl immediately glanced at Vrook, asking permission, she obviously respected him. He nodded, and for the first time, she spoke._

_"B- Bastila Shan, Master."_

_"You need not call me Master, girl, however how long have you been training?" Again, Kreia knew the answer. The girl turned towards her Master and he nodded in approval, this was getting to be an annoyance. Her aura was frustrating as well, a signature just like Kreia's own student. Curious that such great amounts of force flow through two beings in the same time period: Curious._

_"Since I was four, Mas- Kr- Madam." Bastila looked down at the silver band on her wrist. She had had it since she was a baby. It was the best thing she possessed; even more so than her first generation lightsaber. "Since I can remember."_

_"Well Kreia, shall we introduce our Padawans? The training program has them paired together as partners in the contest."_

That was the first time she had ever heard of him, from a master. Other, older Padawans had explained how he was so powerful. Apparently, instead of the force flowing through the body to the mind; it went right to his head. He was able to manipulate it, force it to do his will. Master Vandar had examined him first, coming to the conclusion that he was best suited to be a Consular. Then Master Vrook had examined him, and thought he was meant to be a Guardian. After merely 2 years of training, he had defeated every knight on campus. 3 years had resulted in the victory of Vrook himself. That is when they had transferred him to Kreia, for solitary teachings; as they had with her and her Battle Meditation. Eventually, after much council, they had discovered that he would walk the path of the Consular, for the incredible force inside him guided his movements, allowed for the power, the strength the-. Through training his force affinity, they could improve everything else.

_Now she was actually going to meet him. She shuddered in anticipation. Master Kreia guided her up the slopes past the trees and towards the starport. They passed a white and brown ship, and then walked into the dormitories. Kreia walked faster than she had expected from a woman of her age. Bastila reached out with the force and felt the stress, anxiety and scars of many battles. She also felt some unidentifiable, something like an emotion, but not one that she knew. Kreia shot a cold glance, and Bastila looked down to the floor, she had felt it. _

_They passed the secretary, as Kreia stopped to ask for directions. Funny, she didn't seem like the type of person to do so._

_"Yes sir, I am quite aware that the prisoners must pass through Dantooine, but we cannot have them come now. Yes. Yes. I am quite aware that Knight Bindo instructed you to do as such, be we cannot take an entire load of capture slavers right now, we have refugees on their way to Taris, and the next shuttle is leaving now." The Zabrak gazed up, silently telling us to wait one second. Kreia was frustrated. The Zabrak looked left and right, as if searching for something. She put a hand over the phone and addressed a Republic Officer obviously involved with the refugees. "Where are the Vao children? Griff! Mission! They were supposed to remain here."_

_The officer looked up, "They said they were going to Taris, they provided their passports and everything. The brother led them into the ship as… the… ramp… was… closing-." He dashed off and waved his arms as the ship flew off into the atmosphere. _

_"Damnit!" He ran off to file one report or another._

_Bastila swayed from one foot to another, engaged in a duel that was taking place behind her. Another phenomenonal Padawan was taking on three others in a complex fight. She however was using a wooden staff, instead of a saber. Bastila recognized her from the Kata teachings, her name was Jennyl. She was a master of the blade, almost rivaling Revan himself. She would always talk to Revan when he came… Bastila recited the code and forgot the jealousy. She returned to the duel. Jen moved fluidly, confidently. Bringing the stick down upon another foe, she turned and stopped another flurry of attacks, not giving any ground, she rose again and-_

_A sudden jerk took the thoughts away from Bastila. She hadn't even noticed Kreia talking to the Zabrak. They walked down the hall hastily, approaching the door numbered 9. Kreia pushed Bastila towards the keypad, expecting her to enter the code. She pushed the buttons, 7, 3, 8, 2, 6- the door opened before she could finish. A tall young man stood in the archway. _

_The aura forced Bastila's knees to buckle. She fell forward, but two arms broke her fall lifting her upright. Her head was spinning, how could one person, have so much… - She looked at his face; it was soft, and tanned. He had no scars that she would have expected. He had brown hair, coming just above his eyebrows and around his head, dropping below his ears. He had green eyes, like her, and a prominent nose. He towered over her, yet emanated class, and she could tell he was masking his aura. He was actually trying to make her feel stronger, by making himself seem weaker, even though she knew, she still felt better. But why would he do that? _

_"Revan, this is your sparring partner, Bastila Shan." Bastila bowed respectfully, however, unexpectedly he bowed back. Elder Padawans don't ever bow to the younglings. He outstretched a hand; she touched it- Force shocked through her, coursing through her veins, energy rushed into every corner of her body- she yanked her hand back. He looked slightly hurt, only for a moment. Then a smile crossed his face. Kreia walked out and the door shut behind her._

_"Bastila Shan, I've heard a lot about you." Bastila caught herself staring at him, the aura tempting her towards him, the code… she couldn't remember it. She spoke, to start conversation, "A- are you looking forward to the tournament?"_

_"Yes, are you nervous?"_

_"Yes." Why would I admit that, she thought to herself. Fear, I'm not supposed to be scared. She blushed, embarrassed to be so forward, trusting. _

_"I will not let them hit you." He stared through her eyes, into her being. She was caught, and couldn't look away, his gaze right into her soul. Suddenly, he turned. She caught no expression off his face, but a calm, serenity was emanating from him. Somehow, she felt she could trust him, she could rely on him. He would be there._

The daydream left her as she came up to room #9. She entered the code, 7, 3, - the door opened. She rushed in and grabbed him in a hug. He stood shocked for a second, and then wrapped his arms around her as well.

"Hello, Bastila."

---------------------

Author's Notes: Thank you for all the support guys! I've decided to continue, but due to school, I'm going to have to leave you with a cliffhanger. Please don't be angry, heh. Anyways, Thanks to SilverSentinal21 for the support, as well as Devoted99, leogrll9, and Dante-Raven. Please, continue to Read and submit a Review, need to know if you all are still interested! There is a code in the numbers ;p

Also Kitome-Chan, I used Jennyl for the Exile's name, because I really like the character you built her up to be; but if you want me to stop, just tell me and I will. Please keep reading and reviewing!


	3. Notes, Fighting, and Love

KotOR Roots

Chapter 3

Author's Notes: Hi all, this is a really quick update, solely because of the amount of feedback I've received. OK on to the clearing up: This story takes place before the events of KotOR 1; during Revan and Bastila's childhood. Jolee Bindo did crash onto Kashyyk, but it doesn't specify exactly when. ;) SilverSentinal21, If you find out when he did, just send me another email. OK, so Kreia has not already fallen, however she was borderline before the Mandalorian wars (In my story) the old witch figured out a plan to rule them when she saw the opportunity. The entire story takes place at the Enclave on Dantooine, while Revan is making his visits during his time being taught by Kreia. And the whole "noir" thing was a result of fatigue. I'll try to slip one in every once in a while ;p Devoted99. Hope that's all cleared up… any questions, just email it to me, or submit it in the reviews.

"Hello, Bastila. Are you alright?" Revan was finally released from the embrace and had a chance to sit down; while she was explaining how she was fine. He slid a chair out from the sole table in his dim room. The walls were made out of solid Kashyykian Oak, preventing them from breaking when hit by the solid punching bag in the corner. It was falling apart. The room was impeccably clean, all of his tools in rows, according to their size. Various parts were scattered on the work desk, piled in, around and on datapads, containing various teachings of the Jedi. One stuck out like a sore thumb, by itself on his bed. Revan quickly tucked it away under his pillow. On the table, were two cups and Revan raised and poured Dantooinian wine.

Revan winked at Bastila as he poured, "I won't tell if you don't." She giggled and picked up her glass, taking a single sip, and trying to mask the fire in her mouth. Though she would never admit it, she had never drunk alcohol, aside from being discouraged, especially to the padawans; it slowed reflexes, messed with inhibitors and cluttered up hand-eye coordination. Bastila tried to remember all the rest of what it did, but forgot all that. She could try it now, she was safe here; with him.

Revan picked up his glass and downed it with one gulp. He smiled and poured himself some more.

"So, how is your training going?" Bastila poured into Katas, styles and force techniques she was learning. He simply sat there, actually interested in what she was talking about. There was no one here at the enclave she could talk to. But here, she felt as though could tell him anything. She finished her story, and he nodded.

"That's very impressive. Do you enjoy working with Master Vrook?"

"Enough about me, and training. How is your life going?" Bastila looked at him, she was adjusting to the wine… either that or she was drunk. She tried to pry it out of him with a look.

"OK." Revan never divulged what was going on with his life, his training or even his feelings. 'OK' was his response to everything tough. She remembered when the Council had decided to send him off with Kreia.

_'The training will be extremely difficult, there'll be rigorous training schedule, and workouts. You will be put under tremendous stress, and in life-threatening situations, I hope you understand that." Vrook had said. _

"_OK."_

"_You are absolutely sure?"_

"_Yep." _

Bastila was determined to get this out of him. So far, nothing; he was a rock.

"That's what you always say." She chuckled to herself. The smirk left her face, and she looked him in the eye, seriously. "I never thanked you, for saving me. I was just finished my Battle Meditation training that's why I couldn't fight. I'm- I'm sorry." She blushed and looked down, wondering silently to herself why she was rambling on. She could see the words in her head, but they came out all wrong. _Calm down, think!_

"There's no need to apologize." Revan reached over and lifted her head with his hand. She trembled. "I'm sorry I arrived late," he grinned widely, mocking her in a friendly way. He raised his hand quickly, silencing the laughter. He stood upright for a second. "Someone is coming." Bastila drained her glass, the last thing she needed now was Vrook finding out about her abandoning her training diet. The glasses and bottle drifted slowly up to the ceiling. No expression crossed Revan's face as he effortlessly manipulated them, keeping them all perfectly still, not spilling a drop. Bastila laughed as the door opened as Malak entered.

"Revan!" his eyes scanned the room catching Bastila's eye. "And, Bastila." He emphasized his lack of enthusiasm as he finished his sentence. His disdain of the Council's "poster girl" as he called her, but not to her face, and definitely not anywhere near Revan, had sparked when she had defeated him in sparring. While he was no match to Revan, he could still defeat Bastila, if he just had a second chance… and Revan was gone with Kreia. Strangely enough, Revan did everything in his power to keep her away from battle, whether it be sparring, hunting, or contest fighting. Also, he never allowed anyone to tell her what he had done; Malak found that particularly strange. He stopped talking when Revan rose. "Malak," he walked over and shook his hand, firmly. He glanced at Bastila, prompting her to get up.

While no one else knew, he was already aware that Malak didn't like Bastila; that was the main reason for seeking refuge. He felt anger towards Malak. _Who couldn't lov- like her? _He caught himself, no, no he definitely didn't; _but she was so perfect, everything about her was so, so-._ Revan was cut short from his thoughts was Master Vandar almost walked into his shins. Bastila walked into Revan, her hand placed on his back, wondering why he had stopped so suddenly, a chill ran up her spine.

Revan bowed deeply to Master Vandar. While he was well liked by the entire council, he felt a special affinity with Vandar. He thought it was because they were both Consulars, but he didn't know for sure.

"Ah, Revan, returned, you have. Much, we have to talk about." Vandar turned quickly with his cane by his side. Revan slowly released his grip from Bastila's forearm, dragging it slowly all the way to her fingertips. Bastila's back arched and Malak glowered in the corner of the room.

Anger and envy rolled off Malak._ It will end some day, I will be the strongest. _

Vandar walked forward, making it clear, Revan was the only one to come with him.

Bastila sighed, disappointed that their first meeting had ended such, but turned quickly staring right at Malak. "I think you should leave now." Malak rose off the seat he was currently occupying. He snickered as he left the room. He turned as he reached the threshold.

"I'll see you in the tournament… it isn't team now. You'll be all by yourself this time." He laughed near manically as he left.

_How the hell did someone so… so… manipulative get into the order! So, so evil! _She was stunned that she said that. The, the code; _There is no emotion, there is peace. _She breathed deeply, as she looked around for something to clean up. _Nothing. _She got up and opened the door, looked back with something catching her eye. A glistening datapad sat under his pillow. She walked over and picked it up. _I shouldn't, well then maybe just a quick look. _She turned on the datapad and started reading its contents.

_Dear Bastila… _

_"And next up into the circle, our very own Jennyl & Ayala-Securai, who will be facing Bastila Shan, & yes, Revan." A muffled hush rushed through the crowd as the last team was announced._

_Normally, teamed duels were strictly prohibited, but the Couracant council had had an overwhelming amount of entries for their Padawan training. Bastila Shan had originally been left out of the tournament, for she was in solitary training already; however, the fact that Vrook had suggested she be transferred to a more knowledgeable Master, Master Adoy, coupled with the return of Revan, had resulted in her entry. The Masters knew that they would be victorious; however by lowering their force power, it would teach them not to be completely reliant on the Force. The plan was that Master Vrook and Vandar would use their power to suppress, not drain both Revan and Bastila's force powers. That way, self-dependence and discipline would be learnt. They didn't see what was coming._

_Jennyl walked into the ring, bowing to her opposition, she knew, even though she wasn't supposed to think so, that she was going to lose. She decided she was going to go out like a real Jedi… with a bang._

Ready? First to three solid strikes win! No force powers, only force guidance, understand?_ All four padawans nodded. _Go!

_Revan stood beside Bastila, analyzing both opponents. Ayala took offensive stance, while Jennyl took an unknown stance. Revan was confounded, wondering whether it was dominantly offensive, or defensive. Revan instinctively, against instruction, stepped in front of Bastila. _They were not going to harm her. _Bastila went to shove past him, but was put back by the commanding glare she was met with. While alone, he was lenient, but in battle, the field was his._

_"Put in action, the plan must be." The short Master looked up at his much taller counterpart. They both took meditative stance; this was going to be interesting._

_Revan reminded himself of what he had been confronted with earlier: "you are only harming her when you protect her while she is sparring. Out there is where you may do so, but in the dojo, the girl must fight by herself, independently." His Master had said so, so he reluctantly stepped to the side, allowing Bastila to move cautiously up. _She may fight, but she will not be hurt, _Revan thought to himself, _I won't allow it. _And on that note, the battle began._

_Jennyl came down hard on Revan, determined to prove herself against a prodigy. Using an original style, she followed a pattern she had developed in her head. It was unshakable, a solid strategy._

_Revan grinned under his combat mask, easily deflecting the blow to the ground and poking Jennyl in the ribs with his stick. Not hard enough, but enough to let her know, he won._

_Jennyl felt anger as she turned and slashed for Revan's knee. Revan went to jump, yet felt a weight pulling him down. Shocked, he pulled his legs up as high as he could, however the effort was in vain as the staff connected with his ankle, spinning him in the air and causing him to come down on his stomach. 'What is going on?' Revan slid his foot around, and yanked Jennyl's out from under her, causing her to land on her back. He flipped up, using this time to assess whether or not he should help his ally._

_Bastila was on the defense, Ayala was using two single blades, rather than a sword, allowing her to attack faster, harder. Bastila used the right point of her staff, swinging it back and forth, knocking away both swords. She saw an opening, ducked and struck right into the foe's chest. Yes! Revan would be proud she thought to herself. _

_Why was that her first thought?_

_"Point, one scored by Bastila Shan!" The crowed cheered, screaming encouraging phrases to both sides. Ayala got up, twirled her blades and got ready for the next round. Jennyl was up off the floor and was pissed. This was aggravating! How did Revan have the nerve not to strike, instead to just place it there! Was he taunting me? Treating me like a child? Perhaps a combination of both! Well that's It, she seethed, the next round; he'll see what he has coming._

_Bastila shot a beaming grin to Revan, unaware that he had let her win. She blushed suddenly, as he walked over and congratulated her. "Great work, we're winning, let's keep it up." Bastila's fatigue faded completely away at his words; warmth ran through her. 'He said great work!' she though to herself._

_Beep. The buzzer went and the fight started. Immediately Revan addressed Jennyl, throwing a hard shot to the right. Jennyl blocked and countered, but he was already there and hit the blade up over her head. He stabbed right for the stomach, intentionally going a little lethargically. She rolled to the right. Swung and grazed Revan's cloak._

_I- I didn't see that coming, Revan thought to himself. He canceled that thought going again to jump and strike the top of Jennyl's skull. The blade met, and the weight drove him into the ground. His knees screamed under the pressure, however he rolled backwards. He had just risen; fell backwards, as the sharp edge brushed up against his nose. His back hit the ground, forcing the air out of his lungs. He landed a solid kick into Jen's stomach throwing her back, sliding into the corner, her head connecting, as she tried to recover. The crowd oooed._

_Bastila was not fairing any better, attempting only one attack, which had failed miserably, she felt as though something was holding her back. Ayala was just attacking to fast, she had no time to analyze, or use the force, she could only react instinctively and according to her training. She ducked, going for the chest again, but Ayala knocked it down with her right saber and stomped it into the dirt. She drove the free blade towards Bastila's head. This, was going to hurt. _

_"Arg," Revan grunted to himself as he used mustered up all his resolve and blocked the blade from its current target. He stepped in front of fallen Bastila and was rapidly driving her back. A earsplitting cry pealed our from his chest. Suddenly, his attacks were calculating, fast, and extraordinarily forceful. _

_Vandar rose from meditating, "Futile, our attempts to stop him are."_

_------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_He drove Ayala back forcing her to the 'noir' soil and was about to finish her, when Jennyl swung for his ribs. He leaned back and countered leaping meters into the air. _

_"Ahh!" he screamed deafeningly as the weight was lifted. Desperation was now his fuel. He came down on Jennyl shattering her blade, and kicking her aside. Ayala was rising, but Revan stopped that, smacking aside her blades. The sound crunch of wood hitting the walls, Ayala was unarmed._

_The blade cut through the air, coming straight for the blue Twi'lek's face. She closed her eyes as tight as she could, horrified. A rush of air hit her face instead. The blade wavered slightly above her nose. She slowly opened her eyes, staring into the brown wood._

_Silence._

_Coughing coming for Jennyl broke the quiet, as she keeled onto her side, gasping for air._

_Nothing was heard as Revan towered over his two defeated opponents. Rage left him, as guilt filled in the spot. He turned; Bastila was getting up, staring at him. _Thank the force, she was unharmed. _His eyes scanned the crowd, as everyone stared at him. He looked for his master, who was nowhere to be found. Master Vandar and Vrook pushed through the crowd, again breaking the calm. Vandar closed his eyes, dropping his head, as Vrook looked right at Revan, stunned to find out that the young pupil had actually been more powerful than he, them, combined._

_Revan's blade dropped to the ground, with a soft pat._

_Revan outstretched a hand, lifting Ayala, still terrified, off the ground effortlessly. He walked over to Jennyl picking her up too. She stood on her two feet, and felt the force, returning everything back to normal. Bastila walked towards Revan, grabbing him close. _

_Tears ran down her face into his cloak, _

_"Th- Thank you, Revan." _

_Revan wrapped his hands around her and looked at the audience, who was still glaring back. Ayala and Jennyl bowed, leaving the ring quickly, ushered off by another Twi'lek nurse. The crowed quietly muttered amongst themselves as Bastila was lifted off the ground and both her and Revan left the ring._

_"Control, that one must learn." Vandar stated to Vrook. Both sat alone, in private chambers._

_"Vandar, he broke our mediation, I doubt that I could have done that myself, especially during a fight. He broke free!"_

_"Hm…" the small green Jedi mumbled to himself. "Perhaps, not how, but when is the key."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"It occurred just as young Bastila was being assaulted. Protection then was the key."_

_The two masters sat silent._

_"Protection? That is true, however, the fury he felt, that leads to the dark side. We must not let this develop, this, connection. Such strength and blindness are surely signs of falling." _

_"Harnessing it, not destroying it is key, Vrook. Council with the young ones, we must." The Jedi rose, and left their confinement._

_"Are you alright?" Revan spoke softly._

_"Yes,"_

_"I must leave now, and meditate."_

_"Yes."_

_And with that the cloaked figure left, rustling, suddenly stopped as Bastila fell back onto her pillow, trying to piece together what happened._

… Bastila fell back onto her pillow trying to figure out what happened, the message on the datapad had confirmed her wishes. _He does, he does love me. _She rose now, searching for him, to confront him with the message, that started with her name.

---

Just to clear it up, it's not scary, Bastila is fifteen and Revan is 17.

Also, this story in its entirety is dedicated to a very special friend of mine, Jean. My thoughts are with you, and I know you can beat it again.


	4. Back to Reality

KotOR Roots

Disclaimer: Didn't make one, figured I needed one. I don't own Star Wars. I don't own any of the characters. I don't own the movies. Come to think of it, I don't own anything…

A young woman rushed down the halls, desperate to find her target. A padawan stepped out quickly, and she nearly balled him over. Instead, she quickly darted to the left and kept going. _Where the hell is he?_

Her form came around the corner, and down the slopes, not slowing at all. Past the drooping elm and back up another slant again. She ran and ran as fast as her body and the force would allow her. _Where the hell is he?_

She was going to find him, she needed to explain. She needed an explanation. She needed to know if he really meant what he wrote, or if it was just her imagination. _No, no definitely not, I know that I read the datapad. I know I did! _Warmth ran through her, and a burst of energy followed at the thought of him, and what he had said to her. Well, not _to_ her, but, about her? Was that it? _Screw it. _ She had to find him.She burst through the next door and stopped immediately. She was going to- …no, she _had_ to find him.

_Where the hell is he?_

"Where are you going, young Bastila? The hour is late, and you should be in your room."

A Twi'lek emerged from the shadows.

"Ma- Mas- Master Zhar, I need to find him." The Twi'lek dropped his head and nodded slowly, he knew who she was looking for. Zhar held a quick debate in his head, arguing whether to let her go and find who she was searching for, or to make her return to her dorm. He looked up slowly and analyzed the look on, and of her face. Frantic emotions ran off of her, her breathing was labored, indicating that she ran here. But the winning argument was the pain in her eyes. _What had he done this time? _

"Go young one, but be brief and return to evening meditations immediately."

"Thank you master," and with a curt yet respectful bow she was off again on the marathon, not only on her feet, but in her head.

_Where the hell is he?_

_"Young Revan, invited here, you have been out of urgency." The short and green alien sat at the top of the current pentagon. While he was at the top, to his right was a human master, and to his right a Twi'lek sat. The three of them faced the topic of conversation. And, beside the boy, his Master, Kreia._

_"Explain, in your own words, what went through your head during the duel. What you called upon to attack your opponents with such veracity." Master Vrook spoke solidly, with a hint of contempt._

_The boy glanced up, and out from underneath his brown hood, nearly identical to his Master's. Vrook thought it inappropriate for a Master to dress as such; especially with such a… troublesome student._

_"I was fighting, emotions were of no consequence." Master Vrook looked quickly to his colleague. Who slowly lowered his head, contemplating what had just been said._

_"Of consequence, emotions always are young one. Elaborate, you must. And truth must be told."_

_"Yes, Padawan," Zhar spoke for the first time. "Your actions must be accounted for, before and after," he paused, pondering how to come around to saying what he was about to. "- Bastila was in danger."_

_A streak of pain and anguish rushed over Revan's face. However, it left as soon as it came. The serenity running off of him in swirls and eddies of the force cut off, and there was nothing to be felt within him. He shielded himself from the council, and spoke again. _

_"I was fighting Jennyl." He whispered hoarsely under his breath. "I was about to defeat her, and- and I did not." His head dropped again and the Masters looked at each other, silently conversing._

_"Why was that?" Vrook questioned. Kreia looked over to her juvenile apprentice, nodding, and coaxing an explanation through unspoken words._

_"I thought that Bastila would benefit further than I, from defeating her opponent."_

_"I see." Zhar said, his headtails tucking neatly around his neck in an approving manner._

_"And this would have nothing to do with your- connection with her?" Vrook said, almost mockingly, enticing an outburst._

_Revan's head shot up, eyes glaring, piercing the Master. Emotions, still perfectly unnoticeable to the others around him; on the inside though, he was barely controlling the storm. Still absolutely seething, he humored Vrook._

_"No- it wouldn't." _

_Zhar intercepted the current battle of wills/staring contest between his colleague and the mutineer._

_"Young one, leave us." Master Zhar muttered._

_Revan stayed, looking right into his rival, determined that he wouldn't break it first. Finally, Vrook looked down. Revan rose to his feet swiftly, victorious, and with two courteous, and one less courteous bow, left._

_"Master Kreia, are you aware of your students condition?" Zhar quietly inquired._

_"Master Zhar, I am fully aware of my pupil's condition." Kreia shot a cold glare at the council in front of her. She was not quite angry, but disappointed at the way they had handled the situation between the girl, and Revan. _They were leading our order?

_"I will handle it to the best of my abilities in our solitude. His training will be harder, and his… attachments will be cut off." _

_Suddenly, she rose as well, ignoring formalities and ready to get off this planet._

Bastila closed in on door number 9. She input the code, and the door opened with a whish.

Coldness, froze the warmth that was flowing through her veins. Her stomach knotted, and her fists clenched. Her face scrunched up, and with all her training, she couldn't stop the tears that rolled down her face. She used her sleeve to soak up the moisture collected on her thin nose, and small chin. _He left. He left again. _She closed her eyes, and fell asleep quickly, hoping he returned.

He didn't return.

Space

Revan

He walked casually out of his room. He felt out with the force, but it was different than usual. _Damnit, she's fine. _He desperately, yet futilely tried to reason with himself. He strode to the cargo hold and started looking through his pack. _Where is it? _He picked up the datapad, and looked over its contents. One thing missing… He typed in the final phrase, and sent it to a private datapad, he knew only Bastila would read the contents of. And with a heavy sigh, he rose and left- unaware of how long it would be until he saw her again. Also oblivious of what would interrupt their next meeting, and how it would affect him, her and everyone else.

If he knew, he wouldn't have left.

A/N So, I just wanted a quick update, to set up for what is going to happen while he is away. I'm not going to tell you anything, you need a surprise. Also, please, please review; it's what keeps us FanFic writers going. A quick word of encouragement or a suggestion is ALL it takes. Character ideas please sent to _my _email please Keep reviewing, or did I already say that?...


	5. All in time

KotOR Roots

It was two full years sincehe had laid eyes on her. Two full years of intense battle training, harsh work-out regimens and grueling days upon days of mediations. Kreia seemed to have no end of torture to throw at Revan, and in isolation, there were no voices of reason to say, 'enough.' The longest time, by far, he had not been with people, Jedi s. The longest time alone with her, and damn, it'd been tough.

Yet still, he took everything she threw at him and more. While she kept putting down his every move, taking all opportunities to scold him, she was actually shocked and impressed on how he was taking it. He was completely willing to take a beating for nothing. The pain seemed to flow right through him, affecting him only for a second, then he would counter. His connection to the force flourished ten, no twenty-fold. Meditation times increased to days. Days without food, days without water, days without sleep, or human contact: days without her.

Kreia saw him as an opportunity to win this war against the Republic, a tool if you will. When-, if used properly could conquer all enemies that stood in front of him. Him and the Republic. Him, and his Master. She saw a way to end suffering, pain and Sith dominance. And it stood infront of her.

However, to unlock this power, his connections would need to be severed. She already had a plan in action. _All in time._ Revan would not take this well, she knew it; but she would allow the Masters to tell him that. An opportunity was opening, an excuse for action. A Rubicon so to speak. She knew what he would choose, however why he would choose his certain destiny was still clouded in the force.

_All in time. _

"Revan, awake." Kreia moved fluidly, cloaks masking all the subtle movements underneath them. Revan stood, back facing his Master, eerie dark clouds, masquerading across the sky. The moon shone down, silhouetting him against the horizon of bleak gray.

"Sit, child," Revan's stomach irked at the word 'Child.' "Sit, you have been meditating for two days now. As you know, this is 36 hours longer than the above-average padawan. For this, amongst other, various accomplishments Revan, an honor I have for you."

Revan turned and looked at his master. Even though she was now an old woman, she was a few inches taller than him. And he was not short.

"What would that be, Master?"

"Young pupil, the time ofyour trials has come. We shall return to the Enclave on Dantooine. You shall be held against the Council, and you shall be granted the title Jedi Knight." Kreia bowed her head, for the first time bestowing such an honor on her student.

Revan felt a surge of energy course through him. Unfamiliar warmth ran through him.

"Yes Master, thank you."

"You have earned it young one, you have proved yourself against everything I have been able to throw at you; and you still got up and took more. The reason for such actions, are beyond my own grasp." Among few other things, she thought to herself; something she was not used to thinking. Kreia raised her hood up.

Revan stumbled back slightly, but did not falter. For the first time in fifteen years, a majority of his life, he looked upon her face. Half of it was flooded with shadows, but some stray rays of moonlight allowed him to look upon the other side. There where not as many wrinkles, or scars as he had expected. Her hairline had not receded in her years, and it was still thick, even if it was graying a bit. Her chin did not protrude, and her cheekbones were prominent and her jaw was defined. She looked as if she would have been attractive in her early years.

As his eyes rose, he found something that intrigued him greatly, her eyes. Blue, no, not blue; deep, piercing sapphire. The entire form seemed to be possessed by the azure gaze. It looked as if there was something behind them, something hiding from him; something that did not want to be found. He watched for a long while, and then managed to pull his stare away from them.

He peered up again, but the hood was down again, they were covered. Only slightly deterred and only for a moment, he fell to his knees as she left the room.

_FINALLY!_

He screamed to himself in his head, caught between whether he thrilled with the fact he was finally achieving the title and respect he had worked for, almost his entire life; or whether it was because finally, after his years of training, grit and determination he would see her. He would be near her. _Has she changed? What does she look like? Beautiful. _

Then, acold winter blew over him, scattering the warmth that had brought him some much comfort. Doubt, swept through his mind and thoughts; he remembered one of the many lessons that had chronicled themselves in his skull. It had only been an age ago, and Kreia had emphasized that if he couldn't keep up, he'd be dropped in the blink of an eye.

_"What, my apprentice, is the worst emotion to flood your being? What ultimately, pushes people to the Dark Side, and drives away the light in their lives?" She turned and faced him. "What makes people crumble?"_

_Revan bowed his head, stuck in thought. His instruction over his life had taught him that a wrong answer, if worse than no answer at all. Unless of course, he felt that she needed an answer, in which case, no answer, would result in punishment. _

_He decided that he would answer._

_"Anger." he spoke with full confidence and Kreia had noticed that he never showed any signs of hesitance, or fear. Kreia chuckled to her self, slightly amused at his reply. This, probably was the reason others followed him, while amongst them he had demonstrated considerable leadership skills. That is something you are born with, it cannot be taught._

_"No, child." She contemplated why he had said what he had. The council, of course. _

_"Doubt. Doubt is what clouds the mind, and the senses. Doubt is what makes men crumble. Doubt, my pupil, is what destroys armies." She spoke quickly, forcefully as if she knew exactly what she spoke about._

Revan tried desperately to force it out of his mind. _What if she forgot about him? What- What if she had moved on and forgot about him. _He then tried to rationalize. He figured that he can't, and didn't love her. _But, why do you care so much? _A small voice said to him. 'She does loves me… doesn't she? _So, you do love her. _'No, no of course not. But what if, what if she had another man? What if someone else, someone there had… What, what if she had never received his message, what if she had reacted badly? Oh my god, what if she had been angry, what- if- sh' Revan keeled over and hit the ground with a thud. Then all went black.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two years, too long. She swung again, the air leaving her lungs, as sweat dripped down her forehead.

She had remained true to herself, to him, even though nothing had happened before. _I do love him. _She thought as the blade cut through the air, and breathed in again. She drew the weapon back again, and attacked.

"Bastila, your thoughts are clouded. Go, rest and recuperate. Your training will resume tomorrow." Vrook ordered.

"Thank you Master." Bastila bowed quickly and left. She arrived at her room, and lay on the bed, too tired to get in the fresher. Lately, her thoughts had been occupied with Revan. Unable to concentrate, she had tried to meditate, and failed; she tried to rehearse Katas, and failed.

She rose again, and opened the closet. She stood on her tippy-toes, and reached above the ledge searching for the box. She found it and brought it down, lifted the lid, and removed to sole content of the container. She reread the contents, circling the buttons below the screen. She wiped her hands on her skirt and finished. She drove her into her pillow and closed her eyes, unaware of the surprise that lay for her tomorrow.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Thanks to Silversentinal21, bandgsecurtiyaw, leogrll9, Dante-Raven, Devoted99, and HeavenClaw for reviewing! Please, please keep reviewing, it's "the lifeblood of us FanFiccers, so please spare a quick comment on your way out.


	6. Ariena

**KotOR: Roots**

_A tear dripped down his cheek as he walked back into the room. The room was dimly lit, and chilled the child through his ragged clothes. Soft pitter-patter of drizzling rain broke the silence. The boy's bare feet were going numb on the freezing stone floor._

_Mother, and Father had gathered together, sitting on a soft chair, meant for two. They both, however, were not together. The boy walked slowly, cautiously to the center for the small room. He glanced at who he thought was his mother. Her warmth spread through him, her eyes, deep blue, and caring. Her arms looked so welcoming and inviting. She was beautiful, long locks of blonde hair that reached just below her slim shoulders. She smiled, and a feeling of goodness, and tranquility went over the boy, stopping his hands from shaking._

_"Boy," the father spoke for the first time. "They are coming now, you will leave with them. You understand?" The father leaned forward, putting his head onto his hands which were propped up on his knees._

_He was tall, towering over the mother, and had short, jet black hair. He was slightly unshaven, and had a cold air around him. The force swirled around the two, though the boy did not know what it was then. _

_The boy nodded slowly, glancing back over to his mother, who looked back with pained eyes. She did not want him to leave, but she felt it for the best, so he could be something better, better than what they were. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Despite his age, he vaguely grasped the concept, but did not agree with it. He did not want to leave, to be a warrior, but his father had forced him, driven him to it. The child wanted his mother, wanted his family, wanted a home. _

_He darted his eyes to the large window which peered deep into Courascant's depths; A mere contrast to the slums of Derillia City. A light drizzle poured from the sky, dampening the streets and repulsor-cars that were rushing through the air, this way and that. Small shapes moved with purpose, bustling here and there, with goals in mind. _

_On the right, a merchant pawned off petty goods to wanting buyers. Further to the left, a man was being beaten. He deserved it, no doubt, and yet pity flowed through the child. He watched as the Rodian was hit to the ground, another man taking his credits and delivering a swift kick to the face. The Rodian recoiled into the shadows and tried desperately not to be seen._

_The boy knows about this, for the place he has lived, is much worse than this. He looked down at his feet, uncurling the recently made fist. He glared at his father who stood and pushed him backwards._

_"Go, go get ready!" slurred words spat at the boy as he moved backwards involuntarily, seeking refuge. _

_The child stumbles and runs around the corner, towards his tiny space. He walked quickly and rummaged through his things. The boy was very young, only four years of age; and yet no playthings littered his surroundings. He fumbled with his ragged shirt and slipped it into a brown, leathery bag. The room, too, was dark, and shadows danced on the walls. His bed, if it could be called that, was nothing more than a stiff cot with a thin blanket. No windows let any amount of light into the room, making the feeling of claustrophobia more evident._

_He stood, done packing with merely one article of clothing: another torn bodysuit. _

_Screams shook him from his self-pity as he heard a sound that had been made familiar over the past months. His mother shrieked. He felt wetness down his face once more. He used his sleeve to remove the intruding moisture, sure of his father reaction to his crying. He stepped back into the aforementioned room and saw his mother crying. He stepped to go to her side, but two hands pushed his roughly out the door._

_The quiet moaning still was heard all the way to the temple. _

_It'd be a long time until they were silenced._

High-pitched beeping drew Revan from his quiet contemplation. A recurring dream and the only one of him before he had joined the Order. He sighed lightly and decided to remain with his legs crossed.

He sat in the cargo hold of his Master's ship. The dim lights were flickering, and the room was utterly bear. He turned and looked to the doorway, seeing the barrier still closed, returned to his meditations.

Revan drew a large breath, trying to stop the shuddering and shaking. He felt a bead of sweat cross his brow, and wiped it quickly. _What did these visions mean? Is it even me?_ He never actually saw the boy's face in this recurring dream, and never heard the woman speak; yet he assumed it was his mother.

His stomach knotted at the though of the man in the room. His face was now cloudy, unclear and his voice was distant, separate from his body. The disdain and eagerness was prominent in his words, and the physical contact was felt even here, in the hold. He reached desperately, trying to obtain any amount of clarity regarding the vision.

Revan had only confronted one person with these visions, Kreia. She had dismissed them as nothing, and told him to return to his training. It was two months ago; and they hadn't ended.

His head flooded with thoughts and questions about his past. He shook his head and rose, unable to concentrate. The door opened with a quiet hiss, and he made his way to the cockpit. The beeping was accompanied by blinking red lights, which pierced the darkness. Lights flashed on and off, and changed colors rapidly as Revan fiddled with the controls that flew the ship. The Autopilot responded.

"Set course: Datooine. ETA: Zero hours, Fifty- two minutes." He nodded grimly, disappointed at how long it was until he could finally step onto the Enclaves soil. He would finally attain the rank and title, he long deserved. The respect that goes with it as well. He would see her again, most importantly he thought to himself. He looked behind him, making sure that the corridor was empty as well. And so, thoughts of titles, love and Bastila replaced thoughts of his long lost childhood.

Seven months ago… Dantooine Hidden Jedi Enclave.

_Malak swung again, not connecting this time either, as the padawan deftly moved out of the way again. Damnit! Frustration and anger clouded Malak's thoughts as he moved to attack again. His opponent moved out of the way again, but this time countered, as Malak rolled towards the incoming blade, and caught his opponent off-guard. This allowed him to go straight for the ribs, but the girl blocked that too, and rolled back, creating a brief lull between sparring outbursts._

_From his beginning at the Enclave, Malak had been defined the Masters as abnormally strong in the force. Despite this affinity, he had chosen the path of Jedi Guardian, finding thrill in the rush of battle. He was skilled as well, and defeated most of his opponents. This one, however provided quite a challenge, and Master Vrook's constant criticism didn't help matters._

_"Peace, Malak, peace. Do not let the anger or frustration control your movements. Clear your thoughts and let the force guide your attacks."_

_Pompous ass… Malak lead the attack again, as he loved to do. The happiest place here at the enclave, was in the heat of the fight. He brought the blade down to meet his adversary's face. She dodged it again, and went to go for his knee. Again, however, Malak blocked it, but then landed a solid blow to her shoulder. It was a firm strike, and he was satisfied with it, but not with her reaction._

_Ariena showed no signs of pain at all. She let it flow through her as she had been taught; she allowed the force to block out the suffering, so she could defeat the foe. He was tough, and stronger physically than she, but he relied on that aspect too much. She was stronger in the force than him, and if she could use it, he could easily be dispatched of. Being a Sentinel, she spent much time in meditation, and less than he in combat._

_But, the one thing she saw as a gaping hole in her friend's strategy, his emotions. Ariena had hers under control, preventing any annoyances from making her decisions for her. By simply moving out of the way, she made his movements more and more conspicuous. This round it was going to be different._

_Ariena let him come at her again, and as expected, he went for the downwards strike. She stepped to the left and deflected the incoming blow to the ground. Then, effortlessly slammed her wooden blade into his side. She grinned watching Malak trying to catch his breath._

_"Enough, you two. Malak, return to your dorm, and resume meditations, Ariena, walk with me."_

_Both the Padawans bowed, and Ariena hugged Malak, who begrudgingly accepted and the anger left slowly, leaving only traces of frustration inside him. He didn't return it, however._

_"Hey Mal, you better pick it up next time, I need to start breaking a sweat." Ariena chuckled to herself and followed Master Vrook through the corridors. She heard Malak grunt behind her and used all her self control to not burst out laughing._

_Malak walked back to his room, and sat down in position. He closed his eyes, and tried to center himself. He breathed deeply, and exhaled slowly, calming himself. He felt swirls of the force, but they were sharp, and bladed. He tried to settle his emotions, and for the resentment out of him, and slowly it left; leaving soft currents around him._

_Then suddenly, a knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. He should have sensed Vrook coming; now his force aura was unmistakable. He rose and opened the door; the Master stepped into the room._

_"Malak."_

_"Master."_

_"Malak, I have to consult you about your…"_

_Malak stormed out of his dorm. Vrook, what an inept show for a Master…Malak rounded the corner, seeing a looming oak and its branches that reached over his head. Vrook's words jumbled through his head, trying desperately to rearrange themselves but they couldn't. Something about consulting those who 'caused his anger.' And guess who had been first on his list? His favorite person in the world: Bastila._

_He breathed deeply, trying to relax himself and then knocked lightly on the door, half hoping that the recipient wouldn't hear it. Reminding himself silently that if his best friend loved her, he'd make an effort as well._

_The door whished open, and Bastila looked up as she was finished her 'hello.' A wave of disappointment went over her face._

_"Malak," Bastila muttered keeping her eyes on him the entire time._

_"Can I come in?" Malak inquired meeting and holding her eyes._

_"Fine." Bastila stepped aside, allowing Malak into her room._

_The room was impeccably clean, with nothing on the floor. It was near barren as well, having only a bed, a bookshelf and a desk with one chair._

_Malak walked into the space, and sat on the chair, pulling it out from under its shelter. Bastila stood near the door, ready to kick him the hell out of there if he so much as looked at her wrong. She didn't think that she'd have to, he looked stressed, different._

_"Listen," Malak spoke tentatively, and Bastila was surprised not to be consulting with the stupid, arrogant, headstrong young man he usually was. He spoke with a quiet hesitation as she could tell this was extremely hard for him to say.. "I, I wanted to, to…" Malak sighed and ran his head over his bald skull._

_"Wanted to… wanted to?" Bastila mocked him while waving her hands to emphasize her point. Instantly, she realized that she had gone too far and dropped her hands to her sides, letting them rest on the bed._

_"I- I don't need this," He stood and walked quickly to the door, opening it and walking out. A hand took him from behind and stopped his escape. She spun him around and looked at her feet._

_"Come on in, I'm sorry." Her eyes pleaded with him, and succeeded when the door closed as Malak resumed his previous position._

_"Listen, Master Vrook told me to resolve all the 'conflicts' in my life, apparently my 'frustration and anger' is 'deeply affecting my training. And, well the first person I thought of was- well- you." He looked up and caught her smirking, but she removed the smile as soon as she caught his eyes._

_"I'm sorry if I was an ass to you, but I'm not used to losing in anything," he glanced upwards and Bastila caught a bit of dark humor coming off of him. "And well, I guess if your OK with Revan, your OK with me."_

_He ran his head over his scalp again and got up to leave._

_"Wait, Malak," Bastila stood as well and the door opened._

_"I'm sorry as well, with all my training, I haven't made the greatest effort to come to terms with our- relationship." Bastila looked him in the eye. "If Revan and Ariena are OK with you, your OK with me." Bastila smirked slightly and stepped back allowing the door to close rapidly. This time she let him win, convinced that that hadn't been the Malak she knew. That guy there was OK, that must have been the side everyone else sees. But then again, it might have been him._

_She looked up at the closed door and giggled quietly to herself._

_He never was one for words._

"Wake, pupil." Kreia entered the room and looked at Revan, passed out in the pilot's chair. "Get ready we're landing now, you must be prepared for the final test."

>>>>>>>> "Yes, master." Revan rose from the chair, and shot a quick glance at the screen

ETA: 00D, 00H, 02M, 06S

Revan smiled and opened the next message.

>>>>>>>Welcome, citizen, to Dantooine.

------

A/N- Ooo, cliffhanger again, well sort of. You guys, everyone, I'm sorry about the long update time, life's been really hectic, however, I wont bore you all with the details. I was recently reminded that I can't thank my reviewers individually, so thanks, all of you. Also, any reviews are greatly appreciated, I need to know if you guys still follow this. Just a few words is great thanks! Also Story related I decided to make use of the Exile, so Jennyl was just... well... a really cool Jedi in the backround. Ariena is the to- be Exile.


	7. Old Dirk Loures

Feet of Firm Ground

Dantooine Enclave

Four Days Earlier- 15:00

Malak emerged from the training room. His knuckles bleeding, welts rising up all over his muscular body. Drenched in sweat, he walked out into the corridor. Two younger female padawans walked by, stopping their conversation and staring at him as they passed him, giggling furiously as they disappeared around the corner.

Malak passed the tree, through another corridor into his room. He taped up his fingers, healing the welts and stepped into the fresher. Afterwards, he dressed and opened his door. The small form of Ariena greeted him. Malak recoiled slightly, as Ariena grinned jumping into Malak's arms, kissing him as he desperately stumbled into the room so no one would see them. The door slid closed and he put her down.

"How was training?" she asked skeptically as her eyes landed on his bandaged fingers and welted forearms. Malak only grunted in response. She furrowed her brow and shot him an angry glance. He ignored it. She made a mental note to have another argument about not changing the droid's difficulty levels. He reached up into one of the cupboards pulling one food or another from a shelf. He grabbed a bowl, and shook it.

Ariena scowled in disapproval. "No thanks." Malak shrugged and sat down with across from her. He looked at her for a long moment, catching her eyes, and then dropped into a comfortable silence; his mind occupied with how to fit the most amount of grains onto his spoon and successfully get them into his mouth in the shortest possible amount of time.

Ariena, however, had a much more pressing matter on mind. The one she had come to talk to him about. It was an out of the ordinary topic for conversation, but, well, it was necessary. She knew how close Malak and Revan were, they were as thick as thieves. But through her times with Malak, she had seen it change from a friendship, to another thing entirely. Brotherhood. And as such, thoughts had arisen about how to explain them to Revan. She had no idea why, but she had to have some explanation as to why she so desperately needed his approval. She had convinced herself that it was because he was the only to defeat her in armed combat. Besides Malak, except that one time, but she was sure that he had let her win.

Apart from that fact, there was something else entirely. Whenever Malak defeated her, it was a tough battle. He won in the end, sure, but he broke one hell of a sweat doing so. Revan's victory, though, was different. He was not even breathing hard. It seemed like he was fighting offhand, more like an after-thought than anything else. And then doing it while being dampened. Man.

She had first thought that it was his history, his blood that had spurred this, this power. And so, in search of that she had gone to the library, and using the password she and Malak had… found, much to the dismay of Bastila, who had constantly scolded them for it, conducted a profile search. The information received was as follows:

Last Name: Revan First Name: N/A

Race: See attached file. X

DOB: Unknown

Home Planet: -------

Date Inducted into the order: Confidential

Rank Achieved: Padawan

Jedi Class: Consular: See attached file.X

Order Affiliations: None

Medical History: See attached file. (When clicked, folder appeared with no information.)

Current Master: Master Kreia

Past Masters: None

Studied Under: (When selected diverted her to a page with basically a list of all the current and recently past members of the order.)

Incident Reports: 1,742. See attached files.

X(When clicked, turned Ariena to a new page where there was only a block where you had to input a code. The code was unbreakable.)

This infuriated Ariena even more, knowing the council was hiding Revan's true past deep inside themselves. And so, finding this plan unyielding, she had decided to see if it had anything to do with his close friends. She had decided on close friends, because investigating the number of cliques that Revan had dominant influence in would take too long.

Thank the force she had chosen this path, or she would never have met the most wonderful man in the universe.

Malak finished chewing, and swallowed. He picked up the box and began to pour the contents in the bowl again. What they said was right; Dantooinian grain does get better the more you eat. On his fourth bowl now, he filled it to the brim, and was about to start eating when Ariena intercepted him again and kissed him firmly on his lips.

Malak pressed it on and held her with one arm as she let herself fall into it. Her only concern; him. He kept her there, effortlessly as they parted lips. Ariena smiled lightly as Malak kissed her forehead.

"Can I eat now?" He asked. She glowered, emerging from Malak's arm and standing up next to him, only slightly taller than his sitting form.

"No, that's enough." She said, whisking the bowl up and placing them into the cleaner. "We have something to talk about." She quietly sat down across from him again, entering a serious mood that Malak was perpetually stuck in and she was trying to get him out from.

"Malak, I don't really know how to say this," She said.

"What?" Malak answered.

"Well…" Ariena sighed, contemplating how to come about the information.

"Just spit it out."

"Revan's coming back." She said.

"What?" he asked incredulously.

"You heard me," she replied.

Malak stood up, towering over her as he looked her over once, seeking signs of any form of misleading.

Malak's voice dropped to a whisper as all other noise stopped. "You had better be telling the truth. Ariena, this is not something to joke about." Ariena stood tall, straightening her back, coming no closer to his height. It was all psychological anyways.

"Well, I am."

"Where did you hear about this? And how did you find out before me?"

Ariena's eyebrow rose mischievously. "I have my sources." She laughed softly. For the first time in a while Malak's face broke out of its serious stasis into a smile, and this time she wasn't kissing him.

"This is great!" Malak grabbed Ariena around the waist, squeezing in, causing her to giggle and false-fight it off. Malak simply lifted her off the ground and spun her around, her small frame ending up encased in his arms. She raised her hands and framed his face, engaging in a deep kiss. Malak moved her arms off her ribs and around her back, pulling her up against him.

Eventually they broke apart, Malak looking lovingly down at her and then hugging her tightly.

"I have plans to make." He said. And with that, he walked out ducking under the threshold.

Unknown

Four Days Earlier - ?-?

"Yes ----, I will see to it." The form replied, huddled into a hover chair in the corner of the somber room. Shadows danced over the walls, casting demonic faces over the dry, hard stone walls. Despite the heat outside, the cold chill that engulfed ---- consumed Dirk Loures. Dirk was a Twi'lek. He was not built for this kind of frigid temperature. He rose from his chair.

---- rose as well, walking forward, and reached across, grabbing Dirk's shoulder. ---- smiled. Dirk felt a nauseous rush through him as his knees began to buckle at the power hitting him. He stood tall and turned. He walked quickly, wanting to get out of this lair as quickly as possible. And as far away as possible from ----.

---- caught up. _Too Many have failed before this one. I cannot keep finding new incapable commanders. He must know what awaits him should he fail._

---- walked up behind Dirk. Dirk sped up, as fast as he could while not tipping off his master to the escape he was currently attempting to make.

----'s ironclad grip stopped him in his tracks. Seeing only an inconceivably rapid series of blurs, Dirk was spun, shoulders spinning while his left arm wrapped around his back, wrenching higher and higher. His arm burned as excruciating pain ran up his arm, creeping its way up his neck. He saw black dots.

---- moved his head closer to Dirk's ear.

Black dots growing larger.

---- breathed in.

Pain oh god, pain.

Dirk, ---- said,

Make it stop, struggle, the grip is too strong.

Do not make a mistake Dirk.

Knee's buckling once more. Darkness seeping in through the peripheral vision.

Make sure you get him on our side. I have worked to hard to have this screwed up now. Do you understand?

Dirk allowed a small sound to escape. A pathetic sound.

---- renewed the vigorous hold.

DO YOU **UNDERSTAND**?

Yes, Yes I understand. ---- please release me, I know what I must do.

---- relinquished the grip.

Dirk fell to the floor, feeling the black dots disappear and consciousness returning. He stood tall, despite the fact he could not see straight from the pain. Dirk saluted with the other arm and walked out the door.

He vomited over the floor in the hallway. Again three steps later.

He wiped the predigested food from his lips and stumbled into his room.

---- smiled. He watched his second in command stumble into his room.

Pathetic. His master would never have allowed that kind of weakness. But aside from that. ---- was pleased.

---- sat down. The plan was in motion. Everything was going to plan.

Dantooine Enclave.

Four days earlier- 18:00

First on Malak's list of things to do, was also the hardest of all. He had no idea how to do it, when to do it, what to do, or ever if to do it. No, he had to do it. Malak walked up to the room past the trees and through the hallway. He stood in front of the door. He breathed in. And then out. He pushed the ringer.

A sick feeling passed over him, _was it nerves? No. No. No, it was not. Never nervous, always ready. _He unclenched his fists and stool tall. He hated talking to people. He preferred to fight them. It was simpler, and nothing equaled the satisfaction of a perfectly landed blow, and watching its effect as the opponent reeled from it. He replayed the Kata he was training over and over again in his head.

Left, up right, right, spear, parry, strike. Over again. There was a meditative calm about fighting, a form of release. Physically and mentally. Many of the fellow Jedi, the ones who could not defeat him, preferred to meditate on what was happening. Malak fought on what was happening. They were weaker, it did not matter. They trained maybe half of what Malak did in lightsaber and hand-to-hand combat, and put in maybe half of that effort-wise. Malak consistently pushed himself to the brink, and often over the brink, forcing him usually to be carried home by Ariena.

Only better release than training was fighting. In fighting, other than force-driven exercises where he was only mediocre, and sometimes less than, Malak was the best. The Champion. Sure, others may be able to get more in touch with themselves and the force.

But force help them if they were in the ring with Malak.

The force wouldn't help them there.

Thinking about the mediocrity and constant scolding of tardiness and complete lack of interest in force made Malak's blood heat. He felt the Anger rising. He saw the grey swirls sweeping out from under his feet, the visual sign from his aura that he had to stop. He brought it back, thinking of Ariena.

"Just a second," a female voice replied.

Malak uncurled his fists.

The door then opened.

The petite young girl looked up catching Malak's eyes. She beamed.

"Hello!" she said.

"Hello," Malak grunted, not wanting to deal with what was to come. "We need to talk."

"Sure," she said, turning around and re-entering her room. Malak sighed, and ran over what he had prepared in his head. He hated talking to people. He preferred to fight them. He shrugged it off, and ducking under the doorway entered the room.

_Up next, what Bastila has been doing all this time. Yes there will be some emotional conflict. If anyone can help me write it, or knows any tips, please send them to me. I would love your input._

_Thank you so much for keeping reading this story. I really apologize for my extended absence, but a lot has been going on, and needless to say. I am back. And I do intend to finish this story. If you have any ideas, input or suggestions, Read and Review!_

_Till next chapter, lOngshotOR_

_By the way, is anyone else crying that Res is ending?_


End file.
